


West of the West

by alkjira



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fix-It, M/M, everybody lives AU for the Hobbit, pretty much canon compliant for LOTR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5058814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://tmblr.co/mAiXQaLogtimj1SFDJzad0A">@striving-artist’</a><span>s</span><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/post/131749086787/w-is-for-west"><b>W</b> is for<b>West</b>art</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	West of the West

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from tumblr: [link](http://alkjira.tumblr.com/post/131756100194/this-is-because-striving-artists-w-is-for-west)

They do not go back to Erebor after Lord Elrond’s council is over. 

Thorin is not sure if it’s Bilbo’s fear for Frodo, or just that his Hobbit once more was in the presence of that accursed band of gold, but in the days following the Fellowship’s departure Bilbo begins to fade.

He sleeps more, speaks less, and when he does he is just as likely to speak of things that happened years and years ago, before both their heads were covered in grey, and their bones old, and he speaks of these events as if they happened only recently.

Thorin tells Glóin to go on ahead, that the two of them will travel back east in the spring, once the roads will be less treacherous, but he feels even as he says the words that they are lies.

Glóin merely nods, promises to let Dwalin know to send them an escort. 

“He might even come himself to meet you, go via Moria.” A shadow passes over Glóin’s face. “Or my boy will get there first, if they’ll chose to travel through the mountains.”

Thorin clasps Glóin’s arm, and bends to rest his head against his cousin’s.

They came to Rivendell not only to offer their aid, but also to seek it. 

It has been too long without word from Khazad-dûm, and Thorin feared, and still does, that it indeed has once more turned into _Moria_. Be it by way of Orcs… or something else. 

But no aid came from the Council, and Thorin tries not to let bitterness consume him once more.

He understands that compared to the threat that is Sauron everything else seems a mere inconvenience. But he will not leave his people alone even if he no longer is their King, and he sends with Glóin also a letter for Fíli, asking his nephew and King to send an expedition to find the fate of their kin. 

In the months that follow there are precious little news, and when they do receive it it is rarely good.

Winter comes, and even in Rivendell it is cold and wet and miserable. 

Thorin feels old, feels all the aches and pains a life with too many battles has earned him, and for perhaps the first time he envies the Elves’ immortality, but he does not resent them for it.

It is easier to let go of old, dark feelings when he sees how gentle and respectful Elrond is with Bilbo, and how his daughter Arwen and all the other Elves in Rivendell treat him with nothing but kindness.

Spring follows, and with it the knowledge of the defeat of Sauron. The world breathes a sigh of relief, and to Thorin’s very personal relief, Bilbo wakes one morning with clear eyes and a clear mind. 

Elrond and Arwen leave Rivendell only to return with Frodo and the others.

Dwalin comes, and together they mourn the deaths of Balin, Óin, Ori and the others, and also Dáin and those who fell outside of Erebor. But they also rejoice that Gimli was returned to them, and that an ancient enemy is now finally defeated. 

Thorin sees the looks Glóin’s son gives the son of Thranduil when he thinks no one is watching, as well as the looks he receives in return, and can’t help but think that Mahal must have a strange sense of humour.

Bilbo’s health continues to improve, but still they don’t leave for Erebor. Instead they go to the Shire with Frodo and his young friends, and Bilbo appears to grow more vibrant still as soon as he has green hills beneath his feet.

They stay for little over a year, and it is a happy one. 

It is true that Frodo is often a mere shadow of his old self, aged before his time, but Thorin tells himself; and Bilbo as well, that the boy just needs time and sunshine and green grass. He will recover. 

But a year passes and Frodo does not, and then the day comes when Bilbo asks Thorin if he thinks that Balin will stop by for tea anytime soon.

-

It’s spring when they leave for Rivendell and almost mid-summer when they arrive, just like when Thorin first left Bag End all those years ago.

Bilbo grumbles that he does not need Elrond’s services as a healer, he’s perfectly _fine_ , only to forget about his ire the moment he sees his old friend.

There is however nothing that Elrond can do, and soon Bilbo begins to fade once more, and quicker than before.

Thorin knows that his husband is old for a Hobbit, knows that they’ve had far more years together than they should have by rights, he knows, but he still cannot _understand_ how his world is expected to go on without Bilbo in it.

When Elrond asks to speak with Thorin on a bright autumn day he thinks he knows what the Elf will say, but he does not.

-

That night sleep does not find Thorin. He lies awake, thinking about losing Bilbo to time and the fog of memories, or losing him to the ocean and the lands west of the west where no Dwarf is allowed to go.

-

In the end there is only one choice, and Thorin’s heart cannot decide whether to sink or fly when Frodo arrives in Rivendell, escorted by Lady Galadriel and her husband.

“He will not thank you for this you know,” Frodo tells him, eyes blue and bright as the sky and just as distant. 

“As long as he lives to curse my name I will be content,” Thorin replies, and Frodo nods, slowly and silent.

They go together, all of them, to the Grey Havens, and Thorin knows that even being allowed to go that far is more than many have been allowed.

The night before Thorin does not even try to sleep. He sits awake, eyes tracing Bilbo’s face and form, not that it is necessary for the image to remain within him. 

He could no more forget Bilbo than he could forget his own name and face. But Thorin cannot think of a better way to spend the hours before dawn.

The Lady Galadriel walks silently, and Thorin is not aware that she has entered the room until she speaks. 

“You love him.”

“I’ve loved him for 80 years,” Thorin says quietly, even as Bilbo sighs in his sleep. “And I’ve always known that the day would come when we would have to part. I’ve expected it to come many times before.”

“It does not have to come now.”

“I will not keep him here only for him to lose himself,” Thorin says, his brow furrowing. “He will go with Frodo, and together they will find peace.”

“I meant,” the Lady says, a smile turning up the corners of her lips and eyes and Thorin begins to understand why Gimli called her beautiful. “-for you to join him.”

-

When the boat leaves the next morning, Thorin is on it, Bilbo’s hand clasped in his.

There are letters waiting in what was his and Bilbo’s room; for his sister and nephews and Dwalin, and many others, and Thorin does not know if they’ll reach their recipients,  but his heart is light even so. 

It grows lighter still when he sees the relief in Frodo grow the further they travel from land, and as Bilbo turns his face into the ocean breeze tussling his curls; made golden once more by the dawning sun, Thorin feels light enough to fly.

**Author's Note:**

> The art slayed me, but I feel better now. Written in like... well, it was quickly, so bear with me for any mistakes that were not found.


End file.
